


The view of Gozo

by chiyokintou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiyokintou/pseuds/chiyokintou
Summary: Jean goes Zebbug, a small village on Gozo, to get away from the hectic London. Jean meets Marco, one of the few younger people living and working in the village full of old people, and realises that just a calm place might not be enough. He also needs a calm person like Marco.Inspired to write this after my trip to Gozo.





	The view of Gozo

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I was inspired to write this after my trip to Gozo, but I exaggerated a lot! Some one the facts might be true or my experience, and others I were completely made up.  
> Anyway, I hope you guys'll enjoy it!

 

☀ 

 

Zebbug has one place to eat; the cafeteria behind the football fields. This doesn’t mean that it’s mainly used by footballers. It’s a place that everybody goes to, and it has the best pizza in all of Gozo and Malta. That’s what the landlady told me when she gave me the key to the house. I doubt if it’s true and I don’t know why she bothered to give me the key, because every person in Zebbug, the village I’m staying in, has their key on the outside of their door. This alone told me that everyone in this village knows each other. If I had to guess I’d say that at least 80 percent of the people living here are above sixty. Most of the people look alike too.

The view was amazing, though.

I went to a quiet village so that I could finally get my mind off my normal life. To write my book. That too. My last books were a success, so I had the money to do so. It was just hard to get used to a quiet place like this. My life in London had been a rush. My life in London meant running with a takeaway coffee, working, and partying in the evening. My life in London made me sick. The people in London made me sick. So this was a good thing.

I walked through the street of Zebbug and passed the big church. The church was open, day and night, and an old man was staring at me through the window. He pushed the curtains to the side with his wrinkly fingers. I frowned back at him. Because of the sun, I told myself.  
The lady had said that if I’d go straight at the big church, the pizza store would come into view.

The store was small. There were bright pictures of pizza outside of the store. It looked a little bit shady. I went inside anyway.

“Good afternoon!” a cheery voice greeted me.I looked up and stared at the boy standing behind the counter. The had a bright smile. There were freckles all over his cheeks, nose and forehead. And, like everyone else in this damned place, he was wearing long sleeves with twentyfive degrees (that’s a fucking heatwave in England).

“Hi”  I pushed my glasses back on my nose.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, I’d like some coffee.” He stared at me with a smile on his face. Surprised. As if I was kidding. “What?” I snapped.

“No, nothing. One coffee. Would that be everything?”

“Jup.”

I sat down on one of the plastic chairs. They were a créme colour and I kind suspected that they had once been white. Then again they all matched perfectly.

“I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” I glanced up at the freckled man walking in with coffee in his hands.  “It’s just that no one ever orders coffee, let alone right before dinner time in a pizza store.”

¨It’s not that they have any other place to drink something in this village.”

He chuckled. “Very true. Are you a traveler?”

“Nah, I live up the street.”

“Oh..”The man fell into silence. “Really? I.. I have never seen you around and most people-”

“I rent a house. I’ve been staying here for a few days now, but I’m staying six months.”

The man put down the coffee and then held out his hand. “That’s very cool! My name is Marco.”

I shook his hand. “Jean.”

“Where are you from?”

“London.”

He was grinning. “That’s cool.”

I nodded.

“Uh.. I’ll leave you alone now.” He blushed and grinned even brighter, if that was even fucking possible. “Let me know if all the old people get boring.”

And that was it. That’s how I met Marco. He went to stand behind the counter again while I drank my coffee. The coffee was nothing special, but it was better than the instant coffee I had bought at the local supermarket. Marco was reading a book behind the counter. As soon as I finished the coffee I stood up again.

That day I went into the city to buy a coffee machine.

 

 ☀ 

 

The main city was a ten minute drive, and from there the supermarket was a ten minute walk from there. I took the bus everywhere. The bus came once every hour. This means that, on thursday, I chose to walk to the pizza shop again. This time there was a customer. It was a short woman with short brown hair. She looked like every other lady in the village that I had met.

It was getting cold in the village. I was starting to notice that the city was only warm from ten until five. The evenings were cold. I woke up sweating.

“Hey again!” Marco said when he saw me. “Cold?”

“I’m good.” He had noticed my chicken skin. “I’d like a pizza with salami.”

“Coming right up.” I stared at his arms and wished I could steal his shirt. He was wearing red today. That looked good on him. Red always looks good on people with dark hair. His eyes were the same bright colour. They moved calmly, even if his body was doing a lot of things at once.

When he came back from the kitchen he had a cup of coffee in his hands. He brought it over to me and smiled. “To keep you warm while waiting.” he said, while putting the coffee down. His smile was too damn bright. His kindness hurt my freaking ego.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t let the villagers see you drinking coffee right before eating your food.” he whispered jokingly.

I took a sip. “I’ll tell them that I got it from you.”

Marco went back to the counter when people came in. There were two old ladies who were talking in a language I couldn’t understand. They sounded as if they were gossiping. Marco’s fluent English switched to his fluent Maltese as he made a chat with the old ladies. The only thing I could make out was the fact that they knew his name. ‘Marco this, Marco that.’ Every time he talked they started laughing louder.

The same happened with a man coming in. This man was at least as grumpy as I, but as soon as Marco started chatting he smiled proudly. His smile could be translated to him calling Marco ‘son’. It was quite a sight to see, how everyone came together to chat and gossip. The canteen of the football fields were the life of the city  

He had made the pizza a takeaway pizza. I guess it was obvious that I wasn’t there for chitchat, and that I wasn’t at the right place between all these locals. People thought I was a tourist traveling through the whole island. I didn’t want to give them that vibe. I’d rather be a loner no one knew than that, actually.

At home I opened the plastic bag in which he had put the pizza box. On top of the box stood a phone number. ‘ _Let me know if the old people get boring’_ Marco had written with a black marker. I smiled and put the number in my phone. ‘Marco Freckle’.  I didn’t send him a message.

 

 ☀ 

  

I sat on the green bench waiting for the bus to come. There was an app that said what time the bus came, but the time on the app and the time at the bus station were different. Which, of course, meant that I would sit for fifteen minutes because I didn’t know what time the bus really came. That was fine, I had time now. This village didn’t ask of me to be fast.  
While I was sitting there, in the burning sun, a small red car stopped in front of me. The window opened and a bright, freckled face looked through it.  “Good afternoon! Waiting for the bus?”

I smirked “What does it look like?”

He laughed. He wasn’t one to get butthurt fast. I liked that. “I guess you are.”  

We fell into silence for a bit. He looked as if he wanted to say some more but he didn’t. Instead he stood still with his dorky car.  “Nice car.”, I sarcastically broke the silence.

“Oh shut up. I bet you have a bnw and drive like you do.”

Like an asshole, he meant. He chuckled. I do. I did. I used to do shit like that. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I obviously don’t have a car here. I’m waiting for the bus.”

He laughed. He got wrinkles next to his eyes and on his nose. “Yeah about that, shall I give you a ride? I’m going for groceries too.”

“I’m sure the bus will come in a bit.”

“You have a lot of trust in this small town.”

“Okay, I‘m coming. No need to be a dick about it.”

I got into the car and closed the door a little bit too loud. He smiling kindly and waited for me to put my seatbelt on. He seemed like the guy who would not leave if I did not wear my seatbelt. “I’m definitely not being a dick.”

He was listening to some classic rock, which I really enjoyed. He opened the windows and let the wind blow through his hair. “Is that alright?!” he yelled over the sound of the wind. I just nodded and watched him.

He drove with one arm on the windowpane and one hand on the steering wheel. He was calm. It was obvious that he knew this road like this back of his hand. I don’t think I could be afraid sitting with him in the car, even if he’d drive with his eyes closed. A reliable guy. That’s what he was. That was probably the reason he was still living in a village with old people and boring married couples.

“We’re here.” I looked up to see that he was getting ready to park at the grocery store. “You were quite far away.”

“I was thinking.”

He opened the door and got out. I followed him. He walked with me into the grocery store and started chatting about his work and the village. I listed to half of it. Nothing had happened. Nothing happened here.  He knew that and his stories seemed to embrace that.

“How about I cook for you today?” He asked with some pasta in his hands. “I was planing on making my favourite pasta soup, minestrone with tortellini. It’s quite amazing, even if I say so myself.”   

I put some wine in my cart. “Yeah sure.”

Like the last time I was here, I kept looking for substitutes for stuff I used at home a lot. I heard Marco laugh every time he saw me realise that they didn’t have what I needed. He chuckled every time I sighed. He handed me the things everyone around here used and needed.  

He called me a newbee.

I punched him playfully.

 

 

We decided to go to my place. He walked in wide eyed. “This place is huge.”

“It’s the same as every other house in this street.”

It was a huge house for me too. It had a nice swimmingpool and a table for eight people. There were three bedrooms upstairs, all for two people and with bathrooms. I was alone. That was a little crazy. “I’d feel lonely, eating alone at a eight people table.”

“I’m not eating alone today now, am I?”

He chuckled and nodded. He was chopping the vegetables. I wasn’t allowed to help. I filled two glasses with wine.

“It was the first place I had found here. It was quite hard to rent a smaller house.” I handed him one glass of wine and gestured that he had to come outside with me. We walked around the pool. The wind pushed against us. I walked to the end of the garden. The end of the mountain. You could see the entire city, three enormous churches,  a big farm and the sea. “But it’s worth it.”

Marco looked down. “This view has become normal for me.”

“In London every window, and every balcony,  has view on the streets or other houses. It’s very hard to see the stars in London, but most people don’t even try. In London I spend the evenings inside. I spend them in clubs, getting drunk, trying to hook up with someone, trying to earn even more money than I already had.”

“And you didn’t want that anymore.”

“Exactly. I came to look at the stars, Marco, I just came here to look at the stars for once.”

Marco stared at me. I noticed too late, because I was looking at the view, and now I didn’t know for how long he´d been staring. I tried to smile at him. He was handsome. He made me nervous.  

“Now get your ass back to cooking that soup.”

I kicked him softly. He laughed brightly and followed me inside. “Are you going to make a habit out of punching and kicking me?”

“If you make a habit out of making me nervous.”

He laughed brightly.

Fuck.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Nope. I take that back.”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, before I punch you.”

“Why? Am I making you nervous again?”

He looked so goddamn smug. “Fuck off.”

 

The soup was so fucking good. We had put one small table near the fence and watched the sun go down in the sea. Our food almost got blown away by the wind but it was worth it. “You can cook this again, for me.”

“I’m glad.”

He was wearing one of my sweaters, because it became cold very fast after it became dark. He sipped his wine very slowly.  He wasn’t one to get drunk, it seemed.

“Tell me more about your life in London.”

I put one of my feet on top of the chair.  “It’s not that interesting.”

“Please.” He stared at me with his dark eyes. He paid attention to me. His eyes promised that if I’d talk, he’d listen. He scared me. It was fun being with him, but him getting to know me could become problematic. It would be fucked up. I wasn’t ready for dark eyes like this in the small catholic place.

“Uhm. Well I work as a writing and editor. Never had much time for writing because editing gave me the majority of my loan. I earned well though.”  he nodded interested. “I had a partner, uh, a man who was like five years older.” I waited. Searching for an opinion on what I had just said. I saw none. I went on. “He had girlfriend who he would leave for me, and I gave him too much time to do so. Then they got married.”

“But- How could he-”

“He just did. It’s fine. That was better.”

Marco nodded. Accepting that it was better to just keep this information and to not want more. “After he left, I focussed on work a lot.”

“That’s good.”

“Got a burnout.”

“Oh.”

“I sat at home for a long time and then.. Well then I came here.”

Marco stared at me for a while. He seemed to be thinking about what I just said. He didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe he didn’t even know why I just told him this all. I know I sure didn’t know why I told him all that or what to do with it. It just felt right. It felt good to be honest.

“That must have been rough.”

“It’s alright.”

“Yeah. It’s going to be.” A silence fell. His eyes burned through me. I waiting for him to say more. I waited for more pity or more judgement. “You want some more soup?”

“Yeah.”

 

☀ 

 

Walking with Marco was always embarrassing. I had expected that before we started hanging out and it turned out to be a fact. We went for coffee in the bigger city three times that week.  He wanted to go swimming with me one day. He wanted to show me everything.

When we were walking through the village, next to each other, him smiling because I said something he thought of as ‘grumpy’,  someone would always come up to us to chat. “Marco! Who is this?”

And Marco would small brightly and while throwing an arm around my shoulders. He’d introduce me as someone who’s better than I am. Jean, from London, a great writer, an artist. He’d say that I was his friend and that we were going to get some coffee. The old ladies always giggled and shake my hands happily. It was always great to know me. Any friend of Marco was a friend of them.

“Quite popular with the ladies.” I joked once.

Marco pushed me and laughed “I can’t say I’m interested in old married ladies.”

“Oh shit, I totally thought that was your type.” We sat down at a cafe next to the beach. The coffee was the cheepest I had seen on the entire island. We ordered some food too. Fresh burgers. “So what is your type anyway?”

Jean, stop.

“My type? I don’t think I have one, really.”

“Geez, boring.”

Marco laughed. “I guess. I like people that are different when they are with me.”

“What kind of type is that?”

“A type for someone egoistic and jealous.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Marco turned to me and smiled brightly. “I like to feel a little special.” His eyes were burning through me. He wanted me to say something. It seemed as if he wanted me to say something.

I kept quiet.

Our coffee came.

I told myself not to fall for straight men again.

I thought about all the names the houses in our village had. I thought about all the _Maria’s_ all the _Madonna’s._ I wanted to ask him about it.

I thought about how he had not even blinked when I had told him about my relationship with a man. Giving myself hope again. It was always like that.

“I’m glad that you came here. It’s been awhile that I’ve had a friend around here. I don’t really fit in sometimes.”

And why is that Marco? Why are you still here?

I will leave again, someday.

  

 ☀

 

I don’t know how it happened either. Before I realized it Marco was eating dinner at my place every day. He came home from work to me. He sat talking to me. He told me about his sweet mother and about how he still lived at home.

I don’t know.

I asked him to come live with me, a few weeks ago. I had three rooms. It felt selfish not to ask him.

He cooked for me most of the time and he left at daytime so that I could work. We were living together, and around each other and next to each other. It went easily. It was fine. It felt good to drink some coffee, smoke some, talk into the late evening.  

He brought home pizza from the shop too.

It was the best pizza in town.

It reminded me of Marco.

Like everything else.

 

 ☀

 

Marco put a cup of coffee next to me on my writing desk. He was still wearing his pyjama pants and a big shirt. His hair was messy and he wore a great smile.  He held a big mug that said ‘best mom’ in his hands.

“What’s that?”  I pointed at the mug.

He grinned. “My friends gave it to me. I’m apparently the mum friend.”

“Hmm, I can imagine.”

“It’s my favourite.”

I took a sip of my coffee and stared at my screen. Pretending to be working. “So why are you up this early?” Now he really grinned. A shit eating grin. I merely pulled up one eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m waiting for something I ordered.”

“Hmm, alright then.” Something I couldn’t know about, obviously. Maybe even a present for me. As if he didn’t have better things to spend the money he earned selling pizzas on.

He sat down next to me for a bit, staring at his phone, staring at some magazines, staring at me. I liked having him next to me like that. It made me quite calm. I did some research for my book and when I found something, I told him about it.

He was the kind of person to get excited from small facts. He was happy for an entire day when I told him that ice bears have black skin and see-through hair, which makes them seem white. That made me happy.

The bell rang soon after. He shot up immediately and shuffled to the door in his pyjama pants. The door opened, closed again. He yelled. “I got it!”

“What did you get?”

“You’ll see.”

“Oh my god, why are you like this.”

 

He had bought one of my books. While I was having my coffee break I saw him sitting on the couch with the book in front of his face.

“Marco!”  he peeked over the top of the book “You freckled monster!”

“It’s pretty good so far.”

“Why would you order that!?”

“I thought that you wouldn’t give it to me if I asked.”

I let my hand slide through my hair. “Well, you’re fucking right.”

“You’re embarrassed.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know you love me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I really like the book.”

“Fuck-” he smiled at me real sweet. His eyes were so bright. “Thanks.”

  

 ☀

 

Marco fell asleep on the couch while reading that one book. I noticed that he has a few lost freckles on his eyelids. His breaths were deep. I fell in love with him.

 

 ☀ 

 

I think we had been living together for like, four weeks. Marco was out, selling pizza, when the bell rang. No one had ever stopped by for me. Yes, Marco’s mum sometimes came in to give us some fresh bread or fruit, but she only did this when Marco was home too. People knew when Marco was in or not. Everyone knew what Marco was doing all day. That was fine though. I liked how I could tell none of the old people in the city what Marco and I had done lately.

But now someone was here. For me, perhaps? I couldn’t imagine that someone was here for me though.

I opened the door in my sweatpants and with a cup of tea in my hands. In front of me was standing a young man. He couldn’t be much younger or older than I.  He smiled kindly. “Hi! Sorry to come by this late.”

I said “That’s fine.” because that was the kind of person I had become by living with Marco, in this village. I was calm. I was okay.

“I heard that Marco lives here, from his parents. Is he home?”

I cracked my neck. “Nah, he’s at work.”

“Do you mind if I wait for him here?”

“Uh- well that would be kind of-”

He stepped inside “It won’t be long until he comes back right? The shops don’t stay open until late here.”

He was right but also annoying. “Yeah.”

The door closed softly. I followed the man inside. “Big place you got here.”

“Yeah, I have got some extra rooms so that’s why Marco is staying here.”

His eyes traveled from wall to wall, to my food, to the book Marco was reading, to me. “So you’re not his partner?”

“No.”  Why would he ask that? Did he think Marco was gay? Was he able to see that I was gay? I mean, it wasn’t very hard to see but still, still, other people on this island hadn’t noticed either.  “No, we’re very close friends.”

He nodded. “I’m glad.”

I sat down. Frowned. Leaned in.  “Why?”

“That’s personal.”

“Personal my ass. Just tell me.”

He seemed taken back by my big mouth. “Nothing is personal when it comes to Marco.”

“Really now? It does seem that way.”

“Oh fuck off you asshole. I can just kick you out of this place. It’s not like I’ll respect you because Marco wants to see you. If he even wants that.”

“You’re getting quite upset about this. Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“What the fuck is it to you?”

He grinned. “I just lost contact with Marco and I was worried about that.”

“That doesn’t seem very personal.”

“Marco confessed to me. I declined but I can’t say it stopped there. We stayed in contact. We kept sleeping together. It was really becoming something and then we got out of touch-”

“Maybe because Marco wanted it that way.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Something better came up.”

“And what might that be?”

“Me.”

When the door opened we both shot up. I sat back down, and the guy walked towards the door. “Elias!” I heard Marco’s say. Let my hands slide over my face a few times, and eventually I walked outside. I threw the door to the garden closed, but it made no noise, as if the wind had stopped it for once.

 

“I send him home.”

I leaned over the fence and stared at the lights that burned in the houses downhill. All the small spots in the city that seemed so small now. The wind blew through my hair and left nothing in place. It was getting cold.

“You could have fucking talked to him.”

Marco stepped closer to me. In the dark I could barely see his freckles. “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Not really, I just got angry.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

I snorted. “You’d be fucking surprised Marco. The only thing to calm me was you.”

“Was, hm? Have I ruined it?”

I didn’t answer him. I turned to staring at the dark view again. There was a boat with a big light on it. It was getting closer to the island. Almost home. I tried to think how the people on that ship could be happy to have someone to come home to.

It sucked to think about something like that.

“You could have told me that you’re gay.”

“Jean.” He put his hand on my shoulder. He was warm. I turned to him.

“You could have fucking told me. You could have told me when I got fucking nervous, afraid you’d judge me when I told you about the fact that I was gay, and when I told you a man ruined my fucking life, and you could have told me when you fucking decided to go live here, you could have fucking- you could have fucking told me every morning, every time you saw my fucking heart sink because you smiled at me.”

I saw Marco swallow. I saw him opening his mouth and then closing it again.

“Are you still in love with that asshole?”

He closed his eyes. He was afraid of me. “No.”

This is not what getting better is supposed to look like.  

“I’m going inside.”

“Jean.” he was crying.

“See you tomorrow.”

 

He waited long. He waited until I was sitting in bed. A book in front of my eyes but me reading nothing. I was bad at calming myself. I didn’t know how.

He knocked on the door.  “Jean?”

When I didn’t answer him he just walked in. He stared at me from the door opening, for awhile. Then he sat down on the side of the bed. His eyes were focussed on the ground. He had cried. His cheeks were red. I wondered how I looked.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked me.

I didn’t answer him.  

“Would you mind if I, if I sleep here tonight?”

This is when my eyes focussed on him and weren’t capable of leaving anymore. “No. No I wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

He took off his socks and his jeans. His underwear had palmtrees on them. He pulled the comforter over his legs and pulled it up to his waist.  “Are you okay?” he asked me.

I hummed.

“I’m not leaving.” he mumbled.

“Good.”

“So you don’t want me to leave?”

I put my book on the floor and focussed on him. He was staring at my hands. Desperate. I could almost see where his cheeks had been wett.  

“I’d never want that, Marco. I just want you to.. fuck.. I just want you to be honest with me.”

He stayed silent, laid down and then pulled the covers up to his shoulders. I did the same. He was staring at me. I closed my eyes so that I did not have to look at him. That was hard. I wanted to know if he was going to be honest with me, or if he was going to sleep, if he was going to kiss me, even.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered.

I wanted to touch him, now that he was this close.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you. I thought that me being gay would be bothersome for you. I hadn’t expected you to.. feel something for someone like me.”

“Why the fu-” I opened my eyes.

“But even if I had been right, not telling the man you life with, and the man you are attracted to, that you are homosexual is unfair.  I know that. I realize that now.”

“Marco-”

“It’s true that I was once in love with that man you saw today. He is gay too, and he liked to play around, but when it came to relationships or admitting he was gay he lacked. I was worth nothing being with him, even if I was in love. So when you first told me about the man who you used to have a relationship with, I realized that I didn’t want to end up the same way. I.. I never talked to him anymore.”

I shifted closer to Marco, let my hand caress his cheek. He seemed to finally breath out when I did. As if he had had no breath since he started talking.

“Jean.. Can I ask you one more time..” He swallowed, stared straight into my eyes. I was weak for him. “Are you in love with me?”

I pulled my hand back. “I- Well- yeah.. Yeah I guess you could say that.”

“Thank you.” He pulled me closer and held my tight. His breath in my ear. He kissed my neck. His toes were softly pushing against my feet.  “Jean.. I fell in love with you too. I might have been in love with you from the very start. Who knows.”

 

 

We tried to sleep. I swear we tried. It just didn’t work. I was laying with my back turned to Marco and Marco had his arms around me. His breath tingled against my neck. His dick pushed against my butt. His arms left me no space to hide. His moans of happiness told me that he loved me. That was great. He was comfortable.

It was when he used one of his hands to strike through my hair, and to pull my hair softly, that I turned around. I stared at him, he was wide eyes, and then I pushed my lips against his. He opened his mouth. He snuggled his nose against mine. He licked my mouth, my tongue, and eventually my neck. I moaned softly. He pulled my hair again.  “Fuck”I whispered.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Shut up.” I pushed my lips against his again. Threw my hips forward so that he could feel my hard on push against him. An answer.

That was a very good thing. This was good. It was amazing.

Marco grabbed my hips tightly. I tried to focus on his face. My vision getting blurry. Marco forced my hips to move toward his. I moaned loudly.  Then his hands traveled to grab my ass, and I moved to touch his dick. Our mouths crashed together. He caressed me. I cursed under my breath, lovingly. That made him smile.

It was a good thing.

He kissed me everywhere. He’s that kind of lovemaker. The one who kisses and licks you while taking off your underwear. The one who can love you that softly without blushing. I blushed. I blushed and held his hair in a fist.  

When his mouth touched the tip of my penis, shivers went through me. He licked my tight and traveled over my penis with his tongue. He was warm. “M-Marco.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He took me into his mouth completely. He grabbed my hips and pushed them towards his mouth. “Ah- fuck-”  His hand grabbed my dick and pulled on it. A small drip of sperm came out. With his eyes closed he licked it off.

“Jean..” he looked up again “Can we-”

“Yes. Ye- yeah.” I moaned. Too eager. Fuck, I sounded so eager. I had dreamed of this.

He got up again and pulled off his underwear. “Will you turn around for me?” Silently, I did. Then he put his lips against my asshole and licked it softly, before putting one of his fingers inside of it, and then two, and then three. I closed my eyes. He hushed through my moans. I felt his eyes on me. He told me I looked beautiful again.

“Do you think this is alright?” he asked me.

I nodded silently. His dick pushing against me. He opened my buttcheeks with his warm hands. I let my head fall into the pillow. “Come on Marco, don’t fucking tea- Ah! Fuck! I-” He pushed further. Slowly. He was big. “Marco.”  He put his mouth on my back and moved his hips. I screamed.

Then he turned me around again. He wanted to look at me, he said. He listed my hips and pulled them closer to him. He went inside of my and leaned over me. He looked me into the eyes. Sweat on his forehead. Sweat slowly dripping over his freckles. “Are you okay?”

“Ahh..” Like that. We kept going like that. I tried to look into his eyes but he fucked me so good it made my  vision blurry. He licked my chest, and my shoulder, and my mouth.

He whispered that I was beautiful, over and over again.

I wished to make him stay long enough to have him say he loved me.

 

☀

  

  

“A cloud in front of the sun.”  He looked up. His hair messy and his first cup of coffee in his hands.

“How terrible.” He was sitting against me. He looked at the farm a the beginning of the mountain. I looked at the ships at the shore.  I followed everything and everyone from my garden. Sitting near the fence.

“You know that, when people just watch everyone all day, they call him a grandpa.”

“Oh God, I might even fit in here one day.”

Marco laughed brightly and held my hand softly. The wind was blowing through his hair. His freckles disappeared inside of his laughing wrinkles. His cheeks were red.  “You do.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mr Bodt!”

“I’d never. A friend of Marco-”

“Is a friend of everyone here- yeah yeah I know,” I said. “Wait do you think that means that everyone here is my boyfriend now? A lover of Marco is a lover for everyone?”  I pretended to be deeply shocked.

He laughed even louder and hugged me tight. Kissing me all over my head. “No! You’re just mine. No old lady can have you!”


End file.
